Are You Flying For Business or Pleasure?
by bs13
Summary: AU. Patricia is the hated CEO of Williamson Publishing, and Eddie is her secretary she couldn't care less about. When Patricia faces the possibility of losing her company, she does the only thing that can save it: marry the secretary she knows next to nothing about. Oneshot.


**So the HOA archive has really fizzled out. Writers have strayed, stories have been abandoned...and yes, if you're catching on, that means _my_ stories and that I, as a writer, have strayed. I think I'm going to take a mini hiatus with my HOA stories, because right now, I kind of hate each and every one of them. I'll still try to update "Facade" because that one's okay-ish, but as for the others...not yet.**

**Now for this (super) long oneshot! I actually have been working on this for days (I was going to upload it on my birthday but that didn't work out). It's a Proposal!AU, based on the movie (which means it's kind of unrealistic and probably not accurate, especially in terms of the whole U.S. immigration laws that idgaf about), and it's Peddie...because Peddie. I didn't stick to the whole movie line, though. This is just whatever my mind made up (and that includes plenty of mistakes, so, look out and read at your own risk).**

**ALSO, I STILL HAVE TO FINISH WRITING THE THING FOR RACHEL. It's a Jara thing. For those who don't know, her birthday was October 10th and I never finished writing her anything. I'm terrible.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis.**

* * *

><p>Eddie is really, <em>really<em> late.

**BEEP! BEEP!**

"I'm sorry!" Eddie hollers as he jumps out of the taxi's way, continuing his rush through the streets of bustled New York. He tugs at his tie uncomfortably as he runs, wincing at how tight it becomes as his chest heaves more and more with each rugged intake of breath. Damn his alarm clock going off late...

Finally! His destination comes into view: Frobisher's Coffee.

Upon entering the building, Eddie sighs in disappointment when he sees the long line of people awaiting their turn to order. Dammit, Patricia is not only going to murder him for being late, but for not having her coffee either. Eddie is just about to join the long line when suddenly someone waves at him from behind the counter, beckoning him over.

It's dark-skinned, beaming, beautiful KT Rush, the granddaughter of the owner of the coffee shop. She's spoken to Eddie a few times, and Eddie has found her to be a really nice woman.

"Hey!" KT says now, still beaming as Eddie walks over to her.

"Hey, KT," Eddie says, boyishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I hate to pull a friend card on you, but I'm really, really late and I need to take my boss a coffee—"

KT grins even wider. "Already taken care of."

Eddie breaks into a smile himself when KT hands him the two coffee cups. "KT, you have no idea how much of a lifesaver you are right now," he breathes out. Hurriedly dropping a ten dollar bill on the counter, Eddie dives for the door, calling back to her, "Keep the change!"

Eddie then calls a taxi, jumps in, and begs the guy to floor it. Thankfully, the guy does, no questions asked, and Eddie finds himself at Williamson Publishing before he knows it. Eddie leaves him a generous tip and then dashes up the stairs to the company's doors, looking hurriedly at his watch— one minute, and then he's supposed to be in the office.

When he gets to his floor (the 13th floor, which of course is where Patricia's office is), he hurriedly rushes in...and spills one of the cups of coffee. All over his clearly white shirt.

A low whistle sounds. "Well, well, well. Big early for that, isn't it, Miller?" comes the smirking, teasing comment as Jerome Clarke, Eddie's coworker and friend, leans over the side of his cubicle desk, lazily eyeing the man's stained shirt.

"Knock it off, Jerry," Eddie mutters angrily as he disposes of the spilled cup, but then he suddenly he opens his eyes wide and turns to Jerome, an idea dawning. "_Dude_. Give me your shirt."

"Whoa, slow down, Miller— at least buy me dinner first."

"I'm serious! Please, Patricia's going to be here any second," Eddie pleads.

Jerome's face screws up knowingly. "Oh, yes. The joys of having to work under that woman." Without another word, he promptly removes his shirt, trading it for Eddie's stained one. "But just so we're clear, you _are_ buying me dinner later."

"Well now that ruins the element of a romantic surprise," Eddie quips as he arranges his tie, being mindful of the coffee as he picks it up afterwards. "Thanks, Clarke, I owe you one."

"Of course you do. You owe me several. You don't know how much I value—"

Jerome's words fall short when suddenly the doors of the office bang open. There stands scowling, auburn-haired Patricia Williamson, head of Williamson Publishing and an intimidating human being in general. Even though she has an undeniable beauty to her— jade eyes, defined, soft features, and pale skin— her jaw is always clenched, her jade eyes icy, and her tongue cutting, making her one of the most feared person in the entire building (and also because she is the boss and has a tendency to be very cruel in her judgement).

"Morning, Ms. Williamson," Eddie is quick to say, holding out the coffee as Jerome shrinks back into his cubicle. Patricia takes it, immediately sips from the hot liquid, and then fixates her icy gaze on him.

"Walk with me," she says simply, and then briskly begins to walk. "Agenda?"

"Meeting with Fabian Rutter in thirty minutes," Eddie drills off perfectly, having memorized the agenda for today yesterday. "Afterwards you have to phone in a call with Mara Jaffray, editor-in-chief for the newspaper _The Anubis_; you want to send in candidate Joy Mercer as a response to the deputy editor-in-chief she requested."

"Call her and inform her the call will be made later," Patricia replies. "What else?"

"Then you have your lunch, of course," Eddie says. "A meeting with Amber Millington, fashion icon, just ten minutes after your lunch is over; you have to discuss her appearance on the next _Jack Jackal_ magazine issue."

Patricia reaches her desk now, seating herself in her chair as Eddie lingers nearby. "Very well, that can stay. There are no other meetings, correct?" she asks, taking another sip of her coffee.

"None," Eddie affirms.

"Good." Patricia sips at her cup again. "By the way, I have some paperwork that needs filing and someone you have to meet to get them signed. You'll have to do that this weekend."

Eddie pauses. "What? I can't, I have a family thing."

Patricia raises her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, did I ask you?" she asks simply.

"Uh, no," Eddie mutters. "It's just, that day is my father's birthday—"

Patricia is not interested. "Then it's settled— you meet with the man on the weekend. You can leave now," she informs him, pointedly ignoring all information he's given as she raises her coffee cup to her lips. She then stops and gives a double take to the cup in her hands. "Hold on, who is KT, and why does she want me to call her?"

Eddie feels his skin flush. "Er...it was a busy morning, so..."

"I'm assuming this coffee was yours."

"Was. Yeah," Eddie echoes. "I get the same kind as you, just in case."

"...Just in case you drop it, you mean?"

Eddie sighs. "Yes."

Patricia smirks from her spot. "You know that's really sad, right?"

"I'm well aware of that," Eddie mutters. "Well, have a..._good_ day, Ms. Williamson."

.

.

.

Fabian Rutter gulps noticeably when he sees the infamous set jaw of Patricia Williamson, angry and noticeable, and more importantly, aimed at _him_. "You s-see, Ms. Williamson, that I've been sent to give you a notice. In two weeks, y-you're going to be deported," he manages out nervously.

Patricia's jaw twitches. "You can't be bloody serious," she says harshly.

Fabian shakily inhales. "W-Well, Ms. Williamson, you _are_ an immigrant—"

"I'm from _England_, not some struggling third-world country. This is ridiculous!"

"Well, either way— your visa is going to expire in the next two weeks," Fabian says, his voice growing firm. "I'm from the UK myself, and I understand what you must be going through, but there's no way you can become a legal citizen in two weeks, or be able to stay long enough to do so. The only way to become a citizen is to apply for the test, which you won't have enough time to do, or get married."

A knock at the door sounds, and a second later, an unfamiliar man sticks his head in. "Hey, sorry to interrupt," he says, "but Ms. Williamson, Mara Jaffray is on the phone now and insistent on speaking with you..." He trails off, seeing how Patricia suddenly lights up and advances towards him.

Taking the unknown man's hand in hers, Patricia looks back to Fabian. "Well, Mr. Rutter, there _is_ something I forgot to mention. You see, Eddie and I are engaged."

"We...we're-?" Eddie looks at Fabian and then slowly nods. "Uh, yeah— engaged."

Fabian has had his fair share of immigrants to be deported who manage to somehow wrestle up the fact that they are to be wed, and even more who have faked the fact. "I see," he says slowly. "Well, I'm afraid the timing of your engagement is rather...coincidental with your deportation, and has to be investigated."

"Investigated?" Eddie echoes, eyes darting to Patricia.

Patricia doesn't flinch. "Sure," she says. "What exactly are we talking about?"

"Interviews," Fabian answers readily. "We'll take you two into separate rooms and ask you each a series of questions about each other. If most answers fail to match, then this engagement will be dubbed fake, Ms. Williamson will be deported, and...Eddie, is it?...will be liable to either fees, imprisonment, or both."

"Prison? Wow, that's a bit harsh," Eddie mutters.

Fabian just shrugs, keeping a careful eye on this Eddie persona, waiting for him to crack. There is something about this particular engagement that doesn't sit well with him; he feels as though they are both lying to him.

"Excellent. When do these interviews begin?" Patricia asks calmly.

"Whenever you're told. Maybe even today," Fabian replies. "First, you must go to social services and make sure they know of your engagement. They'll ask you a few questions, and then schedule your interviews for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Rutter," Patricia says, leaning forward for a handshake to bluntly let the man now the meeting is over. "I'll be in touch with you."

"As you should," Fabian says, shaking her hand. "I'll leave my number." He hands her his business card and then offers a hand to Eddie, who after a prolonged moment, shakes it.

.

.

.

"What the hell was that?" Eddie explodes once he and Patricia are out of the office, walking down the street to hail a taxi and get to social services as quickly as possible.

Patricia walks briskly, making Eddie fall behind. "What was what?" she snaps.

"Gee, I don't know...maybe the fact that you decided you are _engaged_ to me all of a sudden?!" Eddie cries. "I don't know what you used to do with your secretaries before me, but was marrying them an option too?"

"Oh, shut up," grumbles Patricia rudely. "You were just..._there_. I needed someone."

"Good to know! But what the hell is going to happen now? You don't really expect me to say I'm going to _marry_ you, do you?" Eddie asks, trying to walk faster to catch up to her.

"Well, you did back in the office," Patricia points out. "Really, Slimeball"—here, Eddie snorts at the childish nickname—"you'd think you weren't as dumb. You weren't exactly running out the door when I told the man what I did."

"Because I happen to like my job!"

Patricia stops suddenly, almost making Eddie crash into her. "Do you really?" she asks tantalizingly, though her voice lacks any tease; it could even be slightly exasperated.

"Uh...kinda? Maybe?" Eddie shakes his head. "But that's not the point!"

"Then stop babbling and tell me the point," Patricia fires. "You're _really_ annoying, you know that?" She starts her brisk walk again, holding out her hand and calling, "Taxi!"

Eddie yanks her hand down. "No taxi!" he calls.

"What gives?" Patricia demands, yanking her hand back.

"What-? What _gives_?" Eddie exclaims. "You can't just keep going around like this is _consensual_! Why should I risk jail or fines just to help _you_ pretend you suddenly want to be in this supposed 'hellhole' that you call the U.S?"

"I never called it that," Patricia negates halfheartedly.

"Yeah, you did. I remember." Eddie crosses his arms. "Look, like it or not, you need me. But the thing is, I don't need you. In fact," he says, a calculating smirk blooming, "I could just leave you right now if I wanted."

"No you can't," Patricia counters. "I'm your boss."

"Big lot of good that does you when you're deported," Eddie says cheekily, tone going from panicking to smug when he realizes how he can take advantage of this situation.

Patricia narrows her eyes. "Fine. I need you. Happy?" she asks sarcastically.

"I didn't even hear a question in that," Eddie says smugly, ignoring her sarcasm. "You know, the thing you kind of need to ask me whether or not I'll do this for you?"

"You _have_ to do this for me, or you're fired," retorts Patricia.

"Unless you're deported," Eddie reiterates.

Patricia rolls her eyes, sighing loud and dramatically. "_Fine_. You know what? Fine!" she exclaims before training her eyes on Eddie's and asking snappily, "Will you do this with me?"

"Whoa, that wasn't even a proposal," Eddie says, raising his hands defensively.

"Who said anything about a bloody proposal? I asked you a question."

"Okay, for now, the answer _might_ be yes," Eddie says, and he smirks at Patricia. "But I have conditions. One, you stop calling me Slimeball. Two, I get promoted to an editor at Williamson Publishing by the time this thing's over. Deal?"

"The name stays," Patricia says stubbornly. "But...I'll make you an editor."

"Thank you. Now propose."

Patricia blinks. "Excuse me, _what_?"

"Propose," Eddie repeats. "You're the one talking the talk, so walk the walk. C'mon, Yacker"—here he congratulates himself on a good insult—"make this a memory I'll never forget."

"_Yacker_?" Patricia echoes distastefully.

"Yeah, Yacker, propose," Eddie prompts again. "_You_ need this, not me, remember?"

"Well who is the one getting a promotion because of it?" retorts Patricia sharply.

"Still. If I'm going to do this, then you have to propose. Properly."

"Why? So you can run back and gossip all about it to your little friends?" Patricia snaps, frowning deeply before crossing her arms and breathing out, "_Fine_. Marry me, _Slimeball_."

Eddie doesn't let her off the hook yet. "Get on your knee."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"That's how people propose— on one knee. You have to give the full experience here."

Patricia growls, "There is no _experience_. This is a business arrangement—"

"One that you dragged me into," Eddie reminds her.

Patricia grits her teeth and, after a pregnant pause, kneels down on one knee. Awkwardly teetering on high heels she wears, and with nothing to hold out, she forces out the question, her words dripping in disdain: "Eddie...whatever your last name is, will you marry me?"

Eddie pretends to think it over. "Hm...how good is your life insurance?"

"I swear to God-!"

Eddie starts to laugh. "Okay, fine, I'll marry you. Geez, you're so needy."

Patricia angrily gets to her feet and shoves Eddie firmly on the chest, making him stumble backwards. "Arsehole," she grumbles before going over to the side of the street, once more calling out, "Taxi!"

Eddie joins her, smirking slightly, and he says, "It's Miller, by the way."

"What?" Patricia turns to glare at him.

"My last name. It's Miller," Eddie says, and for once, Patricia doesn't retort to that.

.

.

.

"Mr. Miller, Ms. Williamson, you both realize the severity of this situation if this engagement is faked, yeah?" asks the scrutinizing man, a Mr. Mick Campbell, as he glances at them across the desk.

"We've been informed, yes," Patricia affirms.

"Alright. Now let's talk interviews," Mick says. "I have some time now, so—"

"Not today," Eddie cuts him off.

Mick folds his hands. "You're not exactly liable to decide, Mr. Miller."

"I know, but, it is crucial that my fiancé and I get leaving as soon as possible," Eddie explains. "You see, we have a plane to catch tonight; we're traveling to Alaska for my father's birthday."

"Prior arrangements— of course," says Mick, clearly not believing the tale. "Of course you may have the time. How long are we talking about, for you to stay out there?"

"A week, at most," Eddie replies.

"Alright. You have Fabian's number; you can call him upon your return, and he will schedule the appointments with me personally. But you must make sure to call the minute you're back in New York. That good?" Mick says.

Patricia nods. "Agreed. Thank you, Mr. Campbell."

"Of course." Mick shakes both their hands. "Have a nice time in Alaska."

Patricia looks at Eddie with a hardly disguised grimace. "Yes, I'm sure we will."

.

.

.

"We're actually going to Alaska. I can't believe this," Patricia grumbles.

Eddie rolls his eyes, trying to slump down in his airplane seat to drown out her voice. "Well, you owe me," he tells her simply. "And I want to be there for my Dad's birthday."

Patricia frowns. "You got us time, at least," she admits begrudgingly. "But now there's the fact that we have to be interviewed. We have to find out everything there is to know about each other in a week."

"Correction: _you_ do."

"What?"

Eddie turns to look at Patricia and huffs, "Please, give me some credit. I've been your secretary for two years; I know everything about you that there is to know. I know you have a tattoo on your left shoulder, you never take sugar in your coffee, you're allergic to peanuts, your driving is horrible—"

"I resent that."

"Then you clearly haven't seen it. And the list really goes on, you know."

"Alright, fine— you know me a little," Patricia says. "Now what about you?"

"Me?" Eddie smirks at her. "Seeing how you didn't even know my last name before today, I'd say you have _tons_ you have to learn about me."

Patricia sighs, rubbing her temple. "_Great_," she says tiredly.

.

.

.

When they arrive, Patricia takes a step outside...and bristles.

"It's _cold_," she says, firing an accusatory glance at Eddie.

"Sorry, next time I'll tell the weather to warm up, just for you," he replies sarcastically as he brings down their bags, promptly handing hers to her.

Patricia snatches the bag. "If you'd have bothered to _tell_ me—"

"If you'd have bothered to even realize where _Alaska_ _is_—"

A loud yell interrupts them. "Eddie!" comes the excited cry.

Patricia and Eddie both immediately turn, eyes falling on a beaming woman with long, wavy, dirty blond hair and a bright smile. Eddie breaks into a wide smile, eyes open in joy.

"_Nina_?" he exclaims. "Wow! It's been so long!" He then pulls her into a tight hug, both of them grinning like loons and exclaiming pleasantries to each other (to Patricia's annoyance).

"Right?" Nina laughs, pulling away from him, but staying in his arms. "You look great!"

"No, _you_ look great!" Eddie counters.

"What? No way, _you_ do."

"No, _you_—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you both think you look great. Can we go now?" Patricia interrupts.

Nina looks in Patricia's direction. "Oh...you must be Patricia."

"You told everyone about me?" Patricia glares at Eddie accusingly, suspecting he's told all of his family about their plan, which is exactly what she told him not to.

"I kind of had to, considering my family would want to at least know the name of the girlfriend I'd be taking home," Eddie says, then turns back to Nina. "So, did my parents send you to pick me up?"

"Yeah, they figured I'd want to see you as soon as possible. Surprise, they were right," Nina says, chuckling slightly. "But anyway, car's parked and waiting; let's get going! There is just _so_ much to fill you in on!"

.

.

.

Patricia lingers by the front door of Eddie's parents' house, hating Eddie more than ever before. He's off with Nina, laughing it up, smiling too much and enjoying himself while Patricia is in hell. Okay, so maybe Patricia doesn't _hate_ him, but there's no doubt he hates her; she's treated him poorly these past few years. Of all people to do this for her...

"You must be Patricia," comes a smiling voice to her right.

Patricia turns and comes eye-to-eye with Eddie's mother. _Shit_. "Yes, hello," she says nervously. "And you must be Mrs...Miller." (She'd almost forgotten their family's last name).

"Ms. Miller, actually," Eddie's mother corrects her gently.

_Eddie hadn't told her his parents were divorced._

"Oh, I'm sorry," blurts Patricia. "Eddie...well, he didn't mention—"

Ms. Miller laughed. "Oh, he never does tell his girlfriends much about us," she says knowingly. "His father left when he was five years old; he's just recently tried to connect with Eddie more, so it's understandable that he didn't tell you."

"So this house...is your ex-husband's?" Patricia asks.

"No, it's mine. Eric— that's my ex-husband's name— flew in from England to celebrate his birthday here," Ms. Miller explains. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but you sound British. Are you from England as well?"

"Yes, I am," Patricia affirms politely.

"My," Ms. Miller says, "I never would have thought Eddie would fall for someone British. He'd always been so against it as a teenager, thinking all Brits to be as bad as his father. Forgive me, my dear, but may I ask how come I have not heard much about you? Why, when Eddie was dating Nina, we'd hear every detail about her, and that was just two years ago—"

"He dated _her_?" Patricia shoots a look towards where Eddie is, laughing it up with the (unfortunately) gorgeous Nina. She doesn't know why, but knowing this riles her up slightly. He isn't supposed to have a _past_ with anyone here; he's supposed to be her fiancé, and that's it.

"He never told you? Well, I'm sorry," Ms. Miller says, and that's all she can say before a child comes rushing up to her and tugs her away, leaving Patricia alone.

Eddie finally gets the sense to look in Patricia's direction, however, so Patricia is not alone for long as he quickly tells Nina something and crosses the room to stand next to her.

"You never told me your dad was British," Patricia accuses once he's there.

"Thank you, I'm having a nice time too," Eddie says, raising his eyebrows.

Patricia purses her lips. "I'm serious, Slimeball. Why did you not tell me?"

"It never came up. Who just tells someone the ethnicity of their parents?" Eddie asks. "Besides, I figured you wouldn't care. You don't seem to care much about me."

"Well, I _do_ have to learn everything about you," Patricia snaps. "Your mum came up to me and started talking, and I didn't even know your parents were divorced!"

Eddie snickers. "_Mum_," he mocks.

"Oh, very mature, make fun of the Brit." Patricia rolls her eyes.

"I will, thank you. But you're serious, my mom talked to you? About what?"

"She told me about your dad leaving," Patricia says, and she sees an instant reaction as Eddie's jaw tightens, so she quickly changes the subject. "And about Nina. She was curious why you'd never mentioned me when you talked so much about Nina."

"What'd you tell her?"

"Nothing— we were interrupted. What _should_ I have said?"

Eddie pauses. "Tell her we'd kept the relationship on the down-low," he suggests. "In case she asks again, that is. Since, you know, you're my boss and all."

"Do they know I'm your boss?" Patricia asks.

Eddie looks away. "Er...no?" he offers.

"They do, don't they," Patricia states, sighing.

"...Yes. And I haven't exactly sugarcoated you when I've talked to them."

"Let me guess— you told them I was a stone-hearted bitch with no ambitions but to drag each and every one of my workers down to hell with me?" Patricia asks. "And before you ask, yes, I heard Mr. Clarke saying that a week ago when the two of you thought I was out speaking to my publishers."

"Uh...he was joking?" Eddie suggests pathetically.

"Of course. And his joke must've been _so_ funny, since you agreed."

"Okay, fine, I agreed. But don't bring stuff up like that. It's not like we're actually together, so you can't guilt me out over this," Eddie says defensively, and Patricia's once-sarcastic tone falls softer.

"Right," she says. "So, then, what now?"

"Don't know. I still have to announce my engagement to you, you know."

Patricia immediately frowns. "You _what_?"

"You really think I'm getting married without telling my parents?" Eddie huffs. "We should tell everyone when we're done singing happy birthday to my dad. Where is he, anyway? Have you seen him?"

"No, I don't know what he looks like."

"Not like me, but kinda like me— hey, there he is. Dad!" Eddie calls, rushing to an older man who reenters the living room. Not knowing what else to do, Patricia follows.

"Edison," Eddie's father— Eric, Patricia remembers— says fondly.

"Yeah, hey, Dad. So, happy birthday," Eddie offers awkwardly.

"Thank you." A beat. "My boy."

Patricia clears her throat.

"Oh," Eddie says, looking to her. "Dad, this is Patricia, my girlfriend."

Eric looks over Patricia slowly. "Oh yes, you, ah, mentioned her," he notes. "I'm glad to finally meet the woman who has been charming my Eddie for three years, eh?"

"Three years?" Patricia echoes.

Eddie groans in embarrassment. "Dad, no, I dated _Nina_ for three years."

"Oh. _Oh_. Well, I'm sorry," Eric says. "It's nice to meet you...Patricia." He turns to Eddie. "Say, Edison, did you not mention your boss's name was Patricia?"

"Yeah. My boss...and girlfriend...Patricia," Eddie says sheepishly.

Eric looks at Patricia, who tries to smile, and then back at his son. "I see," he says slowly. "Edison, a word?" He looks back to Patricia. "My dear, I believe the other women might need some help in the kitchen. Could you perhaps-?"

Eddie winces— he knows exactly what Patricia thinks of womanly stereotypes when it comes to kitchens, and she could be two seconds away from ripping his father's head off. Surprisingly, however, Patricia conceals her anger, politely agrees, and goes (but her famous set jaw is tighter than Eddie has ever seen it to be).

"So, uh, nice weather," Eddie says once they're alone.

Eric, however, won't let him change the subject. "What is this, Edison?" he asks quietly, blue eyes confused and wide. "I thought you _despised_ your boss."

"I did, honest!" Eddie answers. "But...things changed."

Eric suddenly nods knowingly. "_Ah_," he says. "You did mention you'd be getting a promotion soon, didn't you? And now all of a sudden you're with the one person who could have given you that promotion..."

Eddie bristles reflexively. "Are you suggesting that I'm only getting this promotion because of who I'm _dating_?" he asks, feeling angry at the prospect of it.

"Well, you _did_ despise the woman—"

"So what? You can't accuse me of something like that," Eddie snaps. "That's— that's ridiculous!" (Though, admittedly, is probably as bad as taking advantage of his boss's looming deportation risk to get a promotion.)

"What do you expect me to think, son?" Eric asks desperately. "I've always known you to be so expressive of your romantic pursues, and now you want us to believe that you truly are with this woman because you want to be?"

"You?" Eddie laughs dryly. "No, _you_ do not know _anything_ about me. You've been in my life for two years, _Dad_, and you know something? You don't know how much I care about this woman, because you don't know me. So guess what? I'm going to show you. Patricia! Patricia, come out here!"

From the kitchen, a scowling Patricia appears. "What?" she grumbles, gingerly stepping inside the room (and somehow with flour spilled in her hair, even when spending such little time in the kitchen).

"Come here," Eddie says, holding out a hand. As Patricia suspiciously takes it, Eddie turns back to his father, meeting his eyes and never breaking contact as he calls, "Can everyone come inside the living room? I have an announcement to make."

The room falls quiet as the women in the kitchen rejoin everyone else.

"There's something you all should know," Eddie says, and he looks away from his father to face the questioning eyes of his family and friends. "Patricia and I are engaged."

As the many people in the room began to buzz, congratulate, and flock to the couple, Eddie looks over at Patricia and sends her a smirk, to which she rolls her eyes at.

.

.

.

"So."

"So," Eddie echoes as he enters his room. "How are we doing this?"

Patricia crosses her arms. "For starters, I am _not_ going to share a bed with you," she informs him, the two make-believe lovers facing their toughest challenge yet: making everyone believe they sleep together.

"Good to know the feeling's mutual," Eddie says. "I'll take the floor."

Patricia is about to agree wholeheartedly, but unexpectedly, she feels a pang of guilt. "But this is your room, isn't it?" she asks. "Shouldn't you be the one to take the bed?"

"Consider it a gift, because just so we're clear, there's no gifting for the wedding."

"Done," Patricia agrees, and she settles into the bed as Eddie sets out blankets on the floor. "Oh, and Eddie?" she says as they're settled in their respective spots, drifting off to sleep.

"Yeah?"

"I think Edison's a _much_ more professional name for a man your age."

"...Shut up."

.

.

.

**THUMP.**

**THUMP.**

"Slimeball, what is with the racket?" Patricia lifts her head from her pillow, frowning down at the ground, but her frown falls into confusion when she notices that Eddie is in the same spot as the night before: asleep, on the ground.

**THUMP THUMP THUMP.**

"Lovebiiiirds!" comes a trilling call. "Can I come in?"

Patricia blanches. "Shit," she swears, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Eddie's head. He awakens at once, startled, and gives an angry glare Patricia's way.

"What the hell, Yacker?" he hisses.

Patricia doesn't even retort to his nickname. "In the bed. _Now_," she snaps.

"What? It's too early in the morning for this—"

**THUMP.** "Eddie? Hon?"

Eddie's eyes widen. "Oh no," he breathes as he quickly jumps up from his position. "J-just a minute, mom! Don't— don't come in yet!" He gathers all the blankets hurriedly and throws them on the bed, quickly sliding in beside Patricia and putting his arms around her.

"Hey!" she gasps.

"Just trust me on this, okay?" Eddie says. "Now muss your hair."

"What?"

"Just do it!" Eddie hurriedly begins to muss his own hair. Patricia catches on to what he's trying to do, hurriedly mussing her hair as well, and even slipping down her shirt a little as Eddie calls, "Come in, mom!"

Ms. Miller enters the room carefully. "You two decent?" she teases, taking in the sight of them and making the assumption Eddie had set. "I'm sorry for the wake-up call, but I just want to ask if you two want to join us for a walk through town."

"Yeah, sure," Eddie says. "Now if you mind-?"

"Oh. Oh, of course!" Ms. Miller says, hurriedly leaving the room.

Eddie leans back in the bed, sighing in relief. "That was close," he declares.

Patricia ignores him and just fixes her shirt sulkily, thinking of the promised expedition to town. "Great, more time outside— just what I need," she grumbles, and when she looks to her right and sees Eddie still in the bed with her, she shoves him off.

.

.

.

Eddie walks beside Patricia through the sleepy little town, lagging behind the others. He's holding her hand— purely for show, of course— and even managing to speak civilly to her, as they decide to try to get to know each other better.

"You know, we're not covering the deep stuff," Eddie says after a while. "If we're going to get interviewed about each other, we have to know, like, secrets. Dark, deep secrets."

"Oh? Like what?" asks Patricia suspiciously.

"Or past. Or something like that, at least," Eddie says. "You're from England, have no family in the U.S., and that's about all I know about your past."

"How do you know about my family?" Patricia asks, narrowing her eyes.

"I assumed it, since you work through each holiday— even ones where the office isn't open," Eddie says. "And I'm not wrong, obviously. So tell me more about your past."

Patricia pauses to think. "Well...I have a twin sister."

"Really?" Eddie asks. "There's _two_ of you?"

"Oh, shut up." Patricia knocks her body against his before she realizes how flirtatious it comes across as. "She's nothing like me; she's the good, sweet, quiet child who never did anything wrong. She and I actually fell out a few years ago; we haven't spoken since."

"So you have an estranged sister. What about your parents?"

"Estranged too," Patricia replies. "They didn't like the idea of me moving to America. In fact, they refused to finance the trip. So I got a few loans, saved up money, and got here myself."

"Wow. What'd you want here?"

"My own business. And I got it, clearly," Patricia says, and her voice falls quiet. "I don't want to lose it. Even if America might be one of the most despicable countries ever, I...I like what it gives me. My freedom. My independence."

"Geez, what is this, a movie?" Eddie grins. "Not only are you opening up to me, but you're praising America. You actually have a soft side, Yacker. Who would have thought it?"

"Who was _praising_?" Patricia made a face. "I still despise your country."

"Yours now," Eddie reminds her.

"Whatever. You know, in a way you're like America too."

Eddie grins. "Oh? Because I'm _yours_?" he teases.

"No, because you're despicable," comes Patricia's matter-of-fact reply.

.

.

.

That night, Eddie gets in the bed.

"What are you doing?" Patricia demands.

"I don't like the floor. It's cold," Eddie complains.

"Well _I'm_ not going on the floor," Patricia argues.

"Then shut up and sleep," Eddie says, leaning back in the bed. "I won't try anything in the night, I promise. I just want a good bed to sleep in, and plus, if we share all the blankets it'll be less cold."

Patricia _does_ like the idea of it being less cold...

"Fine," she acquiesces. "But don't touch me."

"Easy."

.

.

.

Eddie wakes up and finds that he's draped over Patricia. His arm rests over her stomach, and her hands rest over his. It's such an intimate position that, for a second, Eddie tenses up. He then quickly relaxes and tries to ease out of their position carefully before she wakes up. However, when he moves to move her hands, she shifts closer.

"Hey, Yacker, quit trying to make a move," Eddie jokes, trying to push her away gently, but she makes an irritated noise and just shifts even closer, pressing the warmth of her body against his. "Uh, Patricia?" he protests weakly.

Patricia finally blinks open her sleepy green eyes. "What the _hell_?" she whispers angrily when she notices their position, quickly jerking backwards (but admittedly less warm and, oddly, content as before).

"You're kinda coming onto me here," Eddie says, hands out innocently.

Patricia places a hand on her face. "This is why we can't share a bed."

"Eh, whatever." Eddie stretches his arms above his head. "I think it's fine."

Patricia shoots him a withering look.

Eddie backs up quickly. "Well, not _fine_-fine," he says. "Just that, during the night, it was a lot less cold. And, um, it was comfortable. But I'm sorry about it, you know, honestly. I'd never want to—"

"No, no, you know what, it _is_ fine," Patricia blurts. "I...was comfortable too."

"Okay. So we were both comfortable. Good, great, wonderful..." Eddie trails off.

Patricia clears her throat. "Um, do you want to get breakfast?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Breakfast sounds...awesome."

.

.

.

Nina and Ms. Miller are the ones to present the case to Patricia after breakfast.

"What do you say, dear?" Ms. Miller asks, hopeful. "Would you like to get married here?"

Patricia doesn't know what to say; Eddie left to speak to his father and can't guide her through this development. "Here?" she echoes weakly. "As in, here while Eddie and I are staying here?"

"Yes!" Nina pipes in. "We can throw you a wedding in a few days!"

"O-oh, well—" Patricia starts.

Ms. Miller places a hand on Patricia's shoulder. "You see, Eddie's father is heading back to England soon, but he would love to see your wedding. We _all_ would. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Of...course," Patricia stammers, her sharp tongue gone for once in her life.

"Great! So let's throw a wedding!" Nina cheers.

.

.

.

"A bloody wedding in Alaska," Patricia growls that night.

Eddie shrugs. "Hey, we'd be married," he reminds her. "Easier, isn't it?"

"_Maybe_, but..." Patricia trails off. "I'd always thought—" She stops.

"Thought what?"

"Nothing." Patricia shakes it off, sliding under the covers of the bed.

Eddie joins her, but doesn't shake it off like she does. "Nothing never means _nothing_ with women," he teases. "Obviously it's something, so, spill, future wife."

Patricia exhales sharply. "Well...I'd always thought my family would be there for my wedding," she says, finally. "I know it's ridiculous, because we haven't spoken in years, but..."

"No, I get it," Eddie says suddenly. "For years I'd dreamed my dad would come for me, and then he did. And even if your family isn't going to be here for this wedding, well...maybe they'll be there for your real one."

Patricia looks down quietly. "No, I don't think so," she mutters softly. "I'm not the marrying type. Men don't want to date me; they fear me. I haven't even dated since...well, since I was back in England."

"That's a long time," Eddie notes, surprised.

"Yeah." Patricia sighs and lies down on the floor. "Well, um, good night."

"Yeah, 'night," Eddie says, turning off the light slowly.

.

.

.

"You want to spend a day out on a boat?" Patricia asks slowly.

Eddie nods. "Why not?" he asks, shrugging his shoulders. "My dad's brought it out, the sun's still shining— like it always is— and the actual wedding planning doesn't start until tomorrow. What do you say?"

Patricia pauses to think it over. "But...wouldn't you want someone like Nina with you?" she asks in confusion, thinking Eddie to only be asking her out of pity.

"You know, if I'd wanted to ask her, I would've," Eddie informs her with a teasing grin, which makes Patricia frown and punch his arm, cheeks slightly flushing.

"Fine, let's go on a boat," Patricia says snippily.

Eddie keeps grinning. "Really?"

"Really," says Patricia in exasperation.

Before she can even blink, Eddie has her hand in his and is taking her to the docks. Patricia is given a life jacket, shoved into a four-person boat, and is taken away from the safety of land and out at sea in less than ten minutes.

"Wow, it's great out here," Eddie says, smiling as he begins to steer the boat.

"You think so?" Patricia makes a face. "It's still cold."

"Aren't you used to the cold by now?"

"That's not the point," Patricia says, frowning. "That doesn't make it less cold."

Eddie chuckles. "The big businesswoman, brought down by cold."

"Yes, well, don't tell anyone," Patricia says, managing a small smile.

"Oh, my lips are sealed," Eddie says, making as if to lock his lips and throw away the key. "But even though you say it's cold, isn't this a nice day to go sailing?"

"I don't know. I've never gone."

Eddie looks at her in amusement. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously— not all of us were born in _Alaska_ of all places."

Eddie just clucks his tongue. "Well, then, you're in for a treat," he says. "Just be warned, though— the sea is rough right now." He shoots her a lopsided grin.

"Oh? Are you going to tell me I can hold your hand if I'm scared, next?"

"Maybe." Eddie smirks at her and continues to steer the boat, which slices through the water effortlessly. "The offer's up, of course, if you want that."

"Oh, of _course_," says Patricia, rolling her eyes.

Ten minutes later, when she falls into the freezing water and has to be wrapped in a blanket, Eddie's fingers are all she has to grab, and she keeps them locked in hers.

Eddie doesn't comment on that, but he does turn the boat's motor off and lets them float on the ocean for a while, keeping his hand in hers. "Well, we have a whole day to ourselves," he offers. "Do you want to get to know me?"

Patricia says yes, and she's surprised by how truthful the statement is.

.

.

.

"Wedding planning is sucking my brain dry," Eddie declares.

Patricia glances up from her phone. "Are you implying you have a brain?"

"Shut up." Eddie drops on the couch beside her. "My mom's been going crazy. It's all just flower arrangements and food to be cooked and whether or not you're allergic to anything...it was insane."

"Hmm." Patricia keeps going through her phone.

Eddie frowns at her. "You're not listening to me."

"Married people never listen to each other. I'm practicing."

Eddie chuckles at that. "Man, we are going to be married, aren't we?"

"Yes, so, don't faint with joy on me, Edison," Patricia says flatly.

Eddie continues to chuckle, but as his laugh subsides, he glances at Patricia curiously and asks, "So what happens after? We get married, you're not deported...what happens to us afterwards?"

"We get a divorce," says Patricia like it's obvious.

"And...you?" Eddie asks.

"I study and take the test to become a bloody U.S. citizen," Patricia says, still absorbed in her phone and not sounding the slightest bit apologetic about her tone. "I'm sorry you'll have to go around seeing other women as a divorced man, but that's the only way we can do this."

"Oh, yeah, seeing other women," Eddie mumbles. "Of course."

.

.

.

"You know, you don't look half-bad, Yacker," Eddie teases.

Patricia whips her head towards the doorway to see the man lazily leaning against the doorframe. "Oh, it's you," she says, though her voice lacks any scorn Eddie would've expected. She pats down the white dress Ms. Miller had given her to try on for the wedding (courtesy of her _own_ wedding), and then looks back up at Eddie. "It doesn't really suit me, though."

"You kidding? It looks great on you," Eddie says, and he finds his own voice surprisingly minus any scorn either. Having to spend a few days with Patricia has made him grow a soft spot for her, to which a point where he doesn't mind her company as much.

"Yeah, sure," scoffs Patricia, and she glances towards the mirror angled at the right of her. As she skims the material, she sighs and adds, "This doesn't feel right, Eddie."

Eddie is surprised to hear his name— no insult included— leave her mouth. "What do you mean?" he asks, slowly entering the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Your parents are _excited_ about this. I mean—" Patricia sighs. "I don't feel like we should go through with this. Everyone thinks this is real and then it's...just _not_ going to be? Your family has been very welcoming to me, even though they know how terrible I am to you as your boss. I don't want you to hurt them."

Eddie bites his lip, moving closer to her. "I know, I've been thinking a lot about it," he admits. "I don't exactly want to hurt my family either, but, I promised you I'd do this, and I want to. I...don't want you to be deported." And, strangely, Eddie finds that he doesn't.

"Yes, well, neither do I," says Patricia sharply. "So, fine. Let's do this."

Eddie just moves so he's now standing beside her. "But you're nervous," he says knowingly. "And you aren't sure you want to do this now, are you?"

"Possibly," Patricia admits. "Our love is fake, you know. Won't your parents be able to tell that it is? Your mom's asked if we're going to say vows, and I said no, and she looked disappointed. But I didn't want this to be more fake than it already was, you know? I mean, when we kiss, it's going to look forced as it is!"

"Unless we practice," blurts Eddie.

Patricia turns to glance at him, green eyes meeting blue questioningly. "What?"

"We could practice. Kissing, that is," Eddie suggests.

Patricia glowers at him. "Do you have a death wish?" she snarks.

"I'm serious," Eddie says. "Unless we want this to look really fake and forced..."

"Maybe you're right," Patricia admits. "For once, that is."

"Hey, I resent—"

Eddie is cut off when Patricia leans forward unexpectedly and presses her lips to his. It's an awkward gesture for the both of them, because as Eddie tries to make the kiss one that two loving people would make it as, Patricia clumsily tries to move away after a few seconds before awkwardly staying, trying to kiss back with the same amount of pressure he does.

This makes Eddie attempt to turn his head, bumping his nose against Patricia's and making her wince against his mouth. Gently, she tries to allow his head room to move by turning her own head, slowly placing her hands on his face in an attempt to guide him.

When they pull apart, they both feel very..._strange_.

.

.

.

"Yacker, we're getting married today."

Patricia sleepily opens her eyes, frowning when she sees Eddie hovering over her in the bed. "What'd you wake me up for? I _know_ that," she grumbles, pushing her face back into the mattress.

Eddie chuckles beside her, making the bed vibrate. "You're a late sleeper," he notes.

"Of course I am— you know that."

"I know, but, I had never expected it from you, being a businesswoman."

"And you're just mentioning this now? Shut up, I'm tired."

Eddie grins, leaning back in the bed and pushing Patricia's shoulder teasingly.

She lifts her face from the mattress again. "What?" she snaps.

"There's no sleeping. It's your wedding day. _Our_ wedding day," Eddie says.

"Yay," Patricia says flatly. "Should I act overjoyed?"

"Only when you're near my family," Eddie says, placing his hands behind his neck comfortably. "And also, probably when you're up at the altar— you know, people getting married are generally pretty happy."

Patricia rolls her eyes. "You're too peppy for this early in the morning."

"Well, _some_ of us aren't late sleepers."

"Don't lie to me, Edison, I know you're a late sleeper. I can tell."

Eddie grins at her. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes. Businesswomen know things," Patricia replies.

"Like how to sleep in?" Eddie retorts.

"...I hate you."

"That'll make a perfect vow," jokes Eddie. "I don't see why we don't say vows."

Patricia props herself up on an elbow, looking right at Eddie's face. Eddie, seeing her seriousness, quickly follows suit. "You're joking about this," she says quietly. "Aren't you nervous?"

"Terrified, more like," Eddie says, and his voice hitches. "But...it's cool. We're..."

"We're-?" Patricia prompts carefully.

"Something," Eddie says, pausing once. "Are—are we something?"

"Friends?" Patricia offers.

"Right. Yeah. We can be friends," Eddie says. "Unless, uh—"

Before he can finish, the door to the room bursts open, and there stand Nina and Ms. Miller, both of them with something in hand; Nina, a cup of coffee, and Ms. Miller, the wedding dress.

"Sorry for the interruption," Nina says, "but we have a wedding to attend."

"A wedding today? Nah, I can't, I've got other plans," Eddie says lazily.

Patricia sits up and throws a pillow at him. "Get up, Slimeball."

"Ow! Geez, you can't resist maiming me, even on our wedding day," Eddie says, but he almost freezes when he says it, having almost felt as though they actually _were_ together for a second.

"Someone has to, to keep you in check," Patricia says, for her credit, not being set off by Eddie's familiar tone. "I have to get dressed, and _you_ have to make sure everything's ready."

"Okay, okay— go. I've got this."

"You'd better," Patricia says, and when Eddie surprises himself to kiss her lips softly, just quickly, Patricia kisses back, not even pausing to do so. Patricia leaves, but she can't help thinking back to the familiarity of the moment.

.

.

.

Eddie yanks at his tie again, frowning at the tightness. What he'd give to be back in a T-shirt, staying in bed all day, instead of being at the top of an altar in a stiff suit, waiting to get _married_. He's about to turn and complain to Nina, who is his "best man," but suddenly music starts and the flower girl starts down the aisle, leaving soft pink rose petals in her wake.

Eddie's eyes fall towards the back of the small church they're holding the ceremony at, knowing Patricia is going to emerge any second. When she does, Eddie feels himself sucking in a breath. Patricia Williamson, the woman who has given him hell since he began working for her, looks stunning. She's absolutely beautiful, walking down the aisle in the white dress and even smiling softly for his family's benefit.

That's when it hits him. Eddie realizes he cares for Patricia. No, that he might _like_ her. All the bickering, the getting to know each other, the mutual trickery they're pulling off...it's brought them closer, and suddenly, Eddie doesn't want to let that go. He doesn't want to let _Patricia_ go.

Everyone rises when Patricia comes in. Everyone seems to be holding their breath, too. Eddie offers Patricia a hand, helping her up, and then they stand, holding each other's hands, as the ceremony begins. It appears to be going smoothly, and it really would've, if the priest hadn't said the following words: "Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I...," Patricia starts as soon as the priest is done speaking.

Eddie blinks, surprised. "Patricia—" he begins, wanting to stop her.

She doesn't let him finish. "I can't marry this man," she says, finishing her beginning phrase. As gasps fill the church, she faces the crowd, breathes in, and begins to explain. "I'm British. My work visa expired, and the only way to stay was to get married to a U.S. citizen. I made Eddie marry me without consulting him on the matter, but I can't do that anymore. Eddie...I have _feelings_ for you, and I just can't let you go through with this."

Eddie desperately looks out into the crowd, seeing the way his mother presses a hand over her mouth, the shock clear in her eyes, the way Nina looks dumbfounded, the way his father just shakes his head disapprovingly, as if saying _I told you so._

"I'm going back to England," Patricia finishes, voice quieter than before. "I'm very sorry for ever making Eddie do this, and I'm sorry to have wasted anyone's time." She glances at Eddie, and Eddie can see the tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Eddie."

And then she runs.

.

.

.

Eddie is sitting on the front steps of the church, head in his hands, when a soft hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He jerks his head up, expecting— _needing_— to see Patricia there, but he deflates slightly when Nina sits down next to him.

She's quiet for a second, and then, "I'm sorry."

Eddie is surprised. "For what?"

"I can tell you liked her," Nina says. "That's what."

He shrugs, a quick, limp thing, and then says, "It doesn't matter. She made up her mind, I got out of the whole arrangement, and things are going to go on as usual. I'll be okay— you know me."

"That's the thing, Eddie!" Nina cries, hitting his arm. "You're _not_ going to be okay. I've seen you with a broken heart before. It sucks for everyone around you, not just you."

"You're making me sound emotional," he accuses.

"Because you can be, if you want," Nina says, and she leans against his shoulder.

Eddie recuperates the pressure and quietly asks, "Why didn't we work?"

Nina pauses, as if thinking. "Differences," she says, finally. "But what we had was never real. We were crazy, high-off-college kids, not adults ready for the world. You're ready now, Eddie, and you've found someone. Or you did, really."

Eddie sighs. "So what now?" he asks glumly. "I've lost her."

Nina quickly stands up. "Unless you haven't," she says, an idea dawning.

"What?"

"Eddie, how much do you want to be with Patricia?" Nina asks.

"A lot," Eddie admits.

"Then get up— we have a flight to catch."

.

.

.

Patricia blinks back tears as she walks briskly down the airport terminal. She's already getting her fair share of stares (still being in Ms. Miller's wedding dress, which she plans to send back through mail), and the last thing she needs is to start sobbing. Angrily, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and as a result gets the warm, wet tears on her skin.

She grips her bag tightly as she continues to walk, blinking rapidly to avoid the tears from coming back. It's stupid, to suddenly want Eddie as something other than her secretary, to actually think any man would want _her_. It's been horrible having to meet his family, having to spend so much time with him, having to growing attached to him...but it's also been wonderful, and Patricia wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

And now, she's heading back to England. Away from her company, away from everything she's ever worked for, away from Eddie, away from her one shot at happiness she could've ever had, because while she loves her family (you can love someone, but not _like_ them), she's never been _happy_ with them. Eddie's family— the way they talked to Patricia, thee way they went out of their way to throw a wedding for their son and his "girlfriend" who they knew treated him like shit— it's nothing like Patricia's ever known.

She wishes she hadn't blown it with them.

"YACKER! DON'T BOARD THE PLANE!"

Patricia freezes in her tracks, a cold feeling climbing up her spine. Could it be...no, it couldn't. Still, she turns around, hand still on her bag, and sees Eddie sprinting down the airplane terminal. She's barely even opened her mouth, barely even begun to ask what the _hell_ he's doing, when he stops before her, breathing hard and yanking her into his arms.

"Don't leave," he blurts out, heart beating erratically against hers.

Patricia stiffens at his words. "What— what the hell, Slimeball?" she says, though her voice is soft. "How did you get here so fast? Why are you here?"

"Don't be an idiot, Patricia," Eddie says, letting her go to glance into her eyes. His green ones, so yearning and apologetic, make Patricia's heart jump. "You know why I'm here. I can't let you leave."

"But—"

"Don't talk," Eddie cuts her off. "Please. Let me say something first." He breathes in sharply, running a hand through his blond hair, looking tired. "I—I think I'm falling for you, Yacker. You and your inablity to say anything nice, or to shut up, or to not get your way. You're stubborn and you make me go crazy, but I like that. I like fighting with you, I like spending time with you, I...I like _you_. Don't board that plane. Come back with me, to my mom's house. We can—"

"We can _what_?" Patricia demands, her eyes strangely misty. "I don't want to put you through pain, alright? Your or your family. I like you too, but you and I...we can't be anything."

Eddie breaks into a halfhearted smile. "You like me?"

"I told you that already, idiot," Patricia affirms. "Both here and back in the church."

"Still is as good hearing it a third time," Eddie says, and he places a hand gently on her cheek. "I don't care what you're saying, Patricia. You might think you're doing the right thing, leaving me, but you're not."

"But I don't deserve you," Patricia says, confused.

Eddie grins. "Maybe," he jokes, "but I'll make an exception for you."

"Oh, you—!"

Eddie kisses her, cutting off any exasperated remark she could've made.

"I want to give us a try," he whispers over her lips before he steps back. "I want it to just be us, with nothing in our way." He drops to one knee, looking up at her hopefully. "So, Patricia Williamson, will you marry me? Because I'd really like to date you."

Patricia allows a small smile. "Hm...how good is your life insurance?"

Eddie, grinning, stands up and meets her halfway into a tight embrace. "Is that a yes?" he asks into her ear, practically sensing the eye roll that must follow.

"I suppose— but only because you're so pathetic right now," Patricia says, smirking, before she falls serious. "But I'm going to be upfront about a few things with you if we're going to do this."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"For one," Patricia says, frowning, "you are _never_ calling 'KT'."

Eddie begins to laugh, and eventually, Patricia joins in. They end up leaving the airport hand-in-hand, her in her dirty wedding dress and him in his sweaty tuxedo, the two of them bickering all the way back to a taxi...together.


End file.
